Carlsbad Marathon Recap

A Runner's Ramblings: Volume 3; 1st Edition
26.2 miles raced in 2008
Race: Carlsbad Marathon
Place: Carlsbad, CA
Miles from home: 2,709 (last time a race will be from Arlington, VA in distance)
Course Difficulty: 4.5 out of 10
Course Enjoyability: 5.5 out of 10
Weather: 30s-50s Bright sunshine.
Finishers' Medal: 6.5 out of 10

Well, this came as much as a surprise to me, as it did to those from whom I kept it secret.

Out in California for my new job, I spent the night in Carlsbad, CA.
Done with work for the day, I set out for a run. How could I resist? It
was 60 degrees in the middle of January. A phone call to my hometown of
Titusville a few minutes earlier had reminded me what real winter was
(the greater DC area gets cold but it is nothing like NW Pennsylvania.

Me: “Hey, Dad. What’s shaking?”
Dad: “Me.”
Me: “I saw it was cold there. What’s the temperature?”
Dad: “I don’t think there is one.”

So yeah, I was going for a run.

In
the waning daylight I could still catch glimpses of the road in front
of me as the sun reflected off of the ocean. A few miles into the run I
glanced down and saw "Carlsbad Marathon: Mile 2" marked on the
pavement. I realized that even though I was in Oceanside presently,
that Carlsbad was just around the corner. Had the marathon just been
run the previous weekend or was it being run this weekend? My mind
whirled. Should I try to run this race if I am in town?

I
finished my run and went back to my hotel. I immediately logged onto my
laptop (which will become ironic as you will learn) and checked the
website for the race. Sure enough, it was in just a few days. But its
registration had been full for weeks. Good, I thought. I had run two
consecutive marathon PRs and one little worm that entered my mind was
that I wanted to continue to run consecutive PRs for as long as
possible. I might not reach Dick Beardsley’s
world record thirteen straight PRs but I might give it a shot. By
running a marathon before I was ready to do so, tired from a long trip
(which would only get longer) I would all but guarantee to end that
tiny little streak.

But
I had to at least try to see if I could get into the race. I mean, I
was probably going to be in the area on race day anyway. (The nature of
this portion of my job, where I am mapping out potential race courses,
leaves me with uncertainty of my whereabouts. As I travel up and down
roads, looking for suitable running routes, I can never tell how
smoothly the day will go. Some days I am able to find nearly double the
miles of others. But I knew I was flying out of San Diego, Sunday so I
had to be close on race day!) So I contacted the race and asked if they
needed a 3:10 pace group leader which I saw they were lacking. I
received an email the next day stating they would contact the pace
group coordinator and get back to me.

As such, I let the issue
slip my mind and went back to working the next morning. About halfway
through my day, as I passed along the shores of Lake Elsinore, I
received a phone call. It was from a gentleman that I had emailed with
on a few occasions named Jim. Surprised to hear from him, I was even
more surprised he knew I had recently been in Carlsbad. A little
confused I asked how he knew. Jim then told me he was the pace group
coordinator for the Carlsbad Marathon. Jim and I had been trying to
coordinate our schedules for quite some time so that I could run a race
for him as a pace group leader. I let out a huge laugh. Jim, who grew
up just 15 miles from where I did in NW Pennsylvania, had finally got
me to run one of his races.

Even
though the week ended up being beyond exhausting (amongst other things,
a thief had broken into my rental car and stole my laptop, my laptop
bag [which contained more items than I care to mention; some
irreplaceable]), I knew I would love every minute of being a pace group
leader. You see, it was a pace group leader who helped me gain my first
Boston qualifying time, just slightly over 3 years to the day of the
Carlsbad Marathon. As such, every chance I can get, I try to karmically
pay back the marathon gods.

So race morning came. I was nervous
about being able to keep the right pace for my runners. Plus, I was
doing a marathon no-no. Having only brought old shoes with me to run a
few miles here and there, I decided to purchase brand new shoes at the
expo to wear in the race the next day. Even though I have been very
lucky in that aspect (nine of my top 10 marathon times of all time have
been in different shoes; when the correct shoe company pays me the
right money, I will tell you which one has my marathon PR) I knew I was
still tempting fate.

Adrenaline
coursed through my veins and thoughts of how I was going to replace
what was stolen from me coursed through my mind. Both of these were
making it difficult to slow the engine I wanted to rev and lose myself
in the moment. But today I had a job. My job was to run as even-paced
miles as possible and end up exactly at 3:10 when I crossed the finish
line. With a small crowd behind me at the beginning, all eager to know
how well-qualified I was to lead them (legitimate concerns) we exchange
some light banter as the time to start drew nigh. Some were happy to
see there was a 3:10 pacer given none had been listed on the website.
Others saw my name on my pacer singlet and immediately asked me if I
was the guy who had run 52 marathons in one year. I liked that question
as it gave credence to my pedigree to take them to the promised-land: a
Boston qualifying time (at least for 18-34 year old men).

I
assured all we would not be running too fast to begin, that I would not
run-walk, that I would not walk through aid-stations and that yes, I
most assuredly would be carrying the three-foot dowel rod with a
laminated piece of paper attached to the top, emblazoned with our goal
time and mile pace, for the entire race.

Eagerness bursting forth from the seams, the race finally began.

Mile 1: 8:02

I
barely had to say a single word as we went through this first mile in a
seemingly slow pace. Every single runner looked at his/her watch and
scoffed. We all knew the first mile marker was a little askew.

Mile 2: 6:53

When
one mile is off, the next mile usually has to be as well. That was the
case here as the average of the first two miles was just about what we
wanted it to be. I pointed out the mile 2 on the side of the road which
had been the impetus for me pacing.

One
runner (named Dan, who pointed out his name was like mine minus the
“e”; Thanks, Dan) seemed stunned I had just decided to run a few days
before. I told him not to worry.

Mile 3: 7:02

A
slight downhill and our first view of the coastline quickened our pace
and our pulse. The crowd was still rather thick here as both
marathoners and half-marathoners ran together. A few early-morning fans
cheered us on as we left an off-ramp and entered Carlsbad.

Mile 4: 6:57

With
our cumulative time at exactly 29:00 (or 7:15 minute pace) I turn to my
group and say: “See? Stick with me.” I tell a few jokes and pass out a
few morsels of advice. I turn around and run backward for a few steps
to see what sort of group I have. It had grown.

Mile 5: 7:19

We
finally catch the 1:35 half-marathon pace group leader who admittedly
tells us they went out a smidgen too fast. Knowing we split courses
soon, I jokingly ask the pace group leader if he knows exactly where
the real runners peel off.

Mile 6: 7:24

Up
the first decent hill since mile 1, we take it down just a notch to
steady ourselves for the first real hills of the course. I tell
everyone that I have studied the course and this will be the hardest
part.

Mile 7: 7:19

I
turn to Chad, an airman in the Air Force and ask him to hold the pace
sign. You see, his pace leader has to pee (and had since the start of
the race). As I saw some bushes and we were a little off the
beaten-path, I do my best to help prevent forest fires. I then blame
Chad for our pace being 4 seconds off once I catch up and take the sign
from him again.

Mile 8: 7:10

And then I go 5 seconds too fast. Up a hill. Whoops.

Mile 9-10: 14:35

Giving
more tips to my runners about how to tackle an uphill as we crest the
biggest hill on the course, I totally miss the mile 9 marker. Hitting
the 10th mile, I tell everyone we are now well past 1/3 of the way done
and into double digits.

Mile 11: 6:45

As
we go down the very hills we just went up, we pick up some speed. I
still feel like I am holding back so much. Man, I love downhills. We
see some of the other pace groups on the other side of the road and
pass yet another early-starting pace group. I smack the pace group
leader on the tush with my sign and tell her to pick it up.

Mile 12: 6:54

I
notice for the first time a gentleman right off of my right shoulder.
No matter how fast or slow I move he is always there. It is sort of
annoying when I try to speed up to get a glass of water and get out of
the way of the rest of the running group and he speeds up as well,
directly in my way. I ask him his name and he simply says "Demsas". Not
sure if he is rude, focused or foreign but he says nothing more.

Mile 13: 7:04

My
group has thinned a little bit but we also picked up some runners who
had been in front of us. I tell them to fall in-step behind and use me
to break the wind in front of them. It makes no sense to run alone in a
group, I say. When I add I am here to be used this morning, it is met
with a few chuckles. One young fella named Andrew says he wants to
qualify for Boston. I tell him if he sticks with me, he will.

Mile 14: 7:13

We
catch up to a well-built man who I saw at the beginning of the race. He
tells me we are running a little bit too fast. I tell him he is wrong.
I’ll trust my 72 marathons worth of experience over his GPS any day.

Mile 15: 7:22

The
cool morning temps have warmed a bit and the crystal blue sky means no
cloud cover. My group is down to about 8 or so. I tell them to work
together and start sharing secrets on how to not think about the miles.
I warn them about making sure they drink as it is deceptively warm.

Mile 16: 7:42

The last big hill of the whole course has me telling everyone to ease into it and enjoy. Alison, a female from Tucson
(who I also think is also in the armed forces) has been running strong
all day. At one point I tell her she is in third place. She says she
thinks she is in fifth. I tell her she is wrong.

Mile 17: 7:14

We pass the 2nd place girl on the downhill. Won’t these people learn to listen to me? ;)

Mile 18: 7:23

Down
to about 4 or 5 people, I am torn between shouting a lot of
encouragement to those behind us who are faltering or paying attention
to those holding the pace. Every runner we lose I take as a personal
loss. I want to finish in a group of 20 and have a group hug at the
end. I love hugging at the end of a marathon.

Mile 19: 7:20

Alison, Chad and Sam (a
friend from the internet who I met for the first time in person) all
fall back. I yell back that they can all keep with us. I think it falls
on deaf ears. Sam totally has an excuse. He ran a marathon the day
before in 3:17!!

Mile 20: 7:17

Andrew, whose labored breath I can hear, Desmas
and I are all that remain of the original group. I tell them we only
have 3 separate 2-mile runs to go. Anyone can run two miles. Think of
nothing but those two miles.

Mile 21: 7:08

Desmas
actually pulls me along a little faster than I wanted to do. He is
chomping at the bit. I tell him he can soar ahead if he feels good and
he almost immediately falls to my side again. Andrew says he feels
tired. I tell him he is supposed to. It’s a marathon.

We pick up Rich from Denver who looks strong.

Mile 22: 7:00

We
all stroke a little too fast during this mile, partially from the
adrenaline of dodging half-marathon walkers. I thoroughly relish being
able to yell "Walkers to the RIGHT, please!" without recourse as well,
that is my job today.

I then yell “Thank you. Looking great!”, lest you think I am a total prick.

Andrew disappears in spite of my encouragement.

Mile 23: 7:10

Andrew reappears. Rich from Denver tells him that is the way to run!

Mile 24: 7:20

Rich
falls back. Andrew slips behind me. Desmas leads the charge up a small
steep hill. More walkers in our way having me shouting more than I wish
to, wasting energy I would rather be using to encourage my guys.

Mile 25: 7:24

Desmas
runs very wide on a turn and I yell at him to get back inside as he is
running too damn far (and much further than he needs to. I now am using
my dowel-rod sign as a pointer to show Desmas the cracks in the
half-marathoner walkers that we are weaving through.

Mile 26: 7:09

Our quicker pace puts me near the finish sooner than I wanted to. Desmas and I are alone.

Mile .2: 1:44

Jim
the pace guy comes out of the crowd and begins to run the last 100
yards or so with me. He asks me how I am and I tell him great.

I
wave to the crowd, cross the timing mat, grab the top of the dowel rod
and plant it into the cement like I just claimed this land for Spain.

The clock read 3:09:59. My chip time is 3:09:50.

I
hand the 3:10 sign to Desmas (3:09:44 Chip time) and give him a big
hug. The announcer mentioned Desmas’ name and he receives a big cheer.

I
smile and give a slight wave to the crowd when the announcer does the
same for me. I then turn around and look for Andrew. I see him
sprinting along and he passes the finish with 16 seconds to spare in
3:10:44. Andrew is going to Boston! (I later learn his chip time was
3:08:58; he qualified by over two minutes!). Andrew gives me a huge hug
and thanks me for getting him there. I tell him I just provided the
pace for the training that already existed in him. Then I say he better
try and find a hotel in Boston real soon.

Alison finished in 3:14:40. This was good enough not only for second place overall but was a three minute PR!

I received this email from her late in the week:

"Subject: Thank You!!

Hi Dane,

Just
managed to track down your e-mail address (thanks to the very cool
Fiddy2 website you've got). I really wanted to say thanks again (when I
wasn't so out of breath) for all of your help on Sunday. I was feeling
so good running with you guys through 19 and then something (perhaps a
wall) hit me and I needed to slow down a bit. I'm still so happy with
the PR (and 2nd place!) and running with you for so long was absolutely
key to both of those things. So, thanks so much for your encouragement
and help - it really made the race for me.

It was great to meet and run with you. Good luck with your move! "

It
appears my sign-holder Chad had a rough go at the end, falling off the
pace for a 3:37. I hope he rebounds and runs his 3:10 soon.

All
told, in a week that, personally, was one of the most difficult I have
ever experienced, the marathon was spectacular for my mental recovery.
Hopefully, as time passes, I will forget the troubles I went through
this week, my stolen items will be found and all that will remain is
the good memories of 26.2 miles.

And Dick, you can breathe a sigh of relief now. Your record is probably safe for quite some time.